Chapter 4 - Chapter 4
Submitted April 29, 2009 Updated April 30, 2009 Status Incomplete | A very Irish girl moves to america, meets a very american boy, hates him starts a band with her new friends and tries to get her step-dad kicked out.
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Miscellaneous » Writing » Humor/Comedy |
Chapter 4 - Chapter 4
Chapter 4 - Chapter 4
When Zack went home he had a lot on his mind. He was interested in the fact that it was only his brother who had managed to get English out of Morgan, and a smile!
It gave him hope although he had no idea why seeing as he already had a girlfriend. Before he went to bed he looked into Morgan’s window.
She was there with her guitar slung over her shoulder.
She began to play, and Zack found himself listening. She played very well, it wasn’t exactly what he had thought she would be good at.
Then she began to sing to her guitar.
Unlike her playing, her voice wasn’t anything special, but he couldn’t stop himself from listening to her.
She was singing in another language, he realised as he drifted back to his bed sleepily, not aware of the fact that Morgan had seen him and had fixed her tiger eyes on him.
But just before he fell asleep, he caught a glimpse of those amber eyes.
*
The next day, was a Sunday.
Zack’s mother had gone to church with Pete and his father was still abroad.
So he decided to amuse himself by going to Morgan’s house. He clambered over the fence and was surprised to see Morgan, kneeling in the dirt, wearing gardening gloves and pulling out weeds.
“Hey Red,” Zack said cheerfully.
Morgan looked like she was going to say something, then thought the better of it, and turned away.
“What’s up?” Zack asked, ignoring the fact that Morgan was ignoring him.
Silence.
“Do you want some help?”
Silence.
“Did you know that silence means yes?”
Silence.
“You can’t ignore me forever you know.”
Silence.
“Red, what-”
And finally Morgan’s patience snapped like an elastic band.
“Would you BE QUIET! You are so bloody talkative! Do you EVER shut up? It’s Red this, and Red that! My name is Morgan! M-O-R-G-A-N, MORGAN! You found that out last night! Or were you too high on bloody pasta carbonara to hear?” she screamed.
Zack seemed unperturbed.
“Did you know that you get a little vein in your forehead when you yell?” he asked cheerfully.
Morgan stared at him for a while, with her mouth hanging slightly open.
“I swear, only you.” She finally said, disgust mixed with reluctant admiration. Most boys would have turned tail and fled whenever Morgan got into a rage.
Then the sky darkened incredibly quickly. Then a raindrop plopped on Morgan’s hand. And another. And yet another.
She sighed and picked up her trowel and went into the shed. Zack followed her into shed.
“I’ve had just about enough out of you sir. You can just go on your way!” Morgan snapped.
“Aw, come on Red, I just-” he began,
“DON’T CALL ME RED!!” Morgan screeched, seizing a sharp edged spade next to her.
For the first time, Zack looked shocked.
“Easy now, re-, I mean Morgan,” Zack said in what was obviously meant to be a soothing voice, that was not working.
“You are going to leave me alone and never return to this house, or I swear I shall chop you into little pieces. Now off with you, before I get the rake!” She managed to say just before she ran out of breath.
Zack took a step back like he was going to concede but then he launched forward.
Morgan swore.
Zack grinned.
He had successfully pinned her against the wall (a feat not many could boast of), and Morgan was going red.
“I swear by all that’s mighty you wastrel, if you don’t let go of me, I’ll have you singing soprano from now till Armageddon.” She hissed, wriggling like a worm.
Zack laughed, “Wastrel? Do people still use that, Irish?”
Morgan looked like she was about to explode.
“IRISH? IRISH! YOU’RE MAKING ME SOUND LIKE A PASTRY!” she exploded.
Zack shrugged, “You told me not to call you Red,” he said simply.
Morgan shook her head, speechless.
Her body went limp. “Look,” she said with the air of someone who had given up. “I want to go back inside and go to bed. I would like to wake up and find out that this was some sick nightmare to make me realise how lucky I was when I was in Ireland. My mother will still be married to my father, Lucien will still be here, making other people’s lives miserable and I will be happy again.”
Zack, studied her face and studied the tiredness in her eyes, infused with something else. Probably misery.
The moment he let go he realised it wasn’t misery, it was hate.
Quick as a flash Morgan seized the spade and clunked him over the head with it, then scurried into her house slamming the door.
Zack, however, was lying on the floor. Conscious, but bemused. No one had ever touched him before, let alone floored him with a spade.
It was then that he realized that it might be quite difficult to get Morgan to be his friend.
It gave him hope although he had no idea why seeing as he already had a girlfriend. Before he went to bed he looked into Morgan’s window.
She was there with her guitar slung over her shoulder.
She began to play, and Zack found himself listening. She played very well, it wasn’t exactly what he had thought she would be good at.
Then she began to sing to her guitar.
Unlike her playing, her voice wasn’t anything special, but he couldn’t stop himself from listening to her.
She was singing in another language, he realised as he drifted back to his bed sleepily, not aware of the fact that Morgan had seen him and had fixed her tiger eyes on him.
But just before he fell asleep, he caught a glimpse of those amber eyes.
*
The next day, was a Sunday.
Zack’s mother had gone to church with Pete and his father was still abroad.
So he decided to amuse himself by going to Morgan’s house. He clambered over the fence and was surprised to see Morgan, kneeling in the dirt, wearing gardening gloves and pulling out weeds.
“Hey Red,” Zack said cheerfully.
Morgan looked like she was going to say something, then thought the better of it, and turned away.
“What’s up?” Zack asked, ignoring the fact that Morgan was ignoring him.
Silence.
“Do you want some help?”
Silence.
“Did you know that silence means yes?”
Silence.
“You can’t ignore me forever you know.”
Silence.
“Red, what-”
And finally Morgan’s patience snapped like an elastic band.
“Would you BE QUIET! You are so bloody talkative! Do you EVER shut up? It’s Red this, and Red that! My name is Morgan! M-O-R-G-A-N, MORGAN! You found that out last night! Or were you too high on bloody pasta carbonara to hear?” she screamed.
Zack seemed unperturbed.
“Did you know that you get a little vein in your forehead when you yell?” he asked cheerfully.
Morgan stared at him for a while, with her mouth hanging slightly open.
“I swear, only you.” She finally said, disgust mixed with reluctant admiration. Most boys would have turned tail and fled whenever Morgan got into a rage.
Then the sky darkened incredibly quickly. Then a raindrop plopped on Morgan’s hand. And another. And yet another.
She sighed and picked up her trowel and went into the shed. Zack followed her into shed.
“I’ve had just about enough out of you sir. You can just go on your way!” Morgan snapped.
“Aw, come on Red, I just-” he began,
“DON’T CALL ME RED!!” Morgan screeched, seizing a sharp edged spade next to her.
For the first time, Zack looked shocked.
“Easy now, re-, I mean Morgan,” Zack said in what was obviously meant to be a soothing voice, that was not working.
“You are going to leave me alone and never return to this house, or I swear I shall chop you into little pieces. Now off with you, before I get the rake!” She managed to say just before she ran out of breath.
Zack took a step back like he was going to concede but then he launched forward.
Morgan swore.
Zack grinned.
He had successfully pinned her against the wall (a feat not many could boast of), and Morgan was going red.
“I swear by all that’s mighty you wastrel, if you don’t let go of me, I’ll have you singing soprano from now till Armageddon.” She hissed, wriggling like a worm.
Zack laughed, “Wastrel? Do people still use that, Irish?”
Morgan looked like she was about to explode.
“IRISH? IRISH! YOU’RE MAKING ME SOUND LIKE A PASTRY!” she exploded.
Zack shrugged, “You told me not to call you Red,” he said simply.
Morgan shook her head, speechless.
Her body went limp. “Look,” she said with the air of someone who had given up. “I want to go back inside and go to bed. I would like to wake up and find out that this was some sick nightmare to make me realise how lucky I was when I was in Ireland. My mother will still be married to my father, Lucien will still be here, making other people’s lives miserable and I will be happy again.”
Zack, studied her face and studied the tiredness in her eyes, infused with something else. Probably misery.
The moment he let go he realised it wasn’t misery, it was hate.
Quick as a flash Morgan seized the spade and clunked him over the head with it, then scurried into her house slamming the door.
Zack, however, was lying on the floor. Conscious, but bemused. No one had ever touched him before, let alone floored him with a spade.
It was then that he realized that it might be quite difficult to get Morgan to be his friend.
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